31. Phoenix St. Pierre #2
“Oh, a demand.” I shove my half-undone cargo pants down my thighs, watching him drink in the various tattoos across my fair skin. Then I kick my pants aside. After I take off my socks, I roll down my boxer-briefs and step out of those. I’m buck-naked.
I let him see all of me. Tom mutters, “Holy shit,” staring at the muscles leading to my cock. It’s taking real restraint on my part not to be all over him. My fingers twitch, and I rub my knuckles to stop myself from drawing him into my chest.
Slow down with him.
I’m trying.
Tom drags a hand back and forth over his neck. Flustering him is an unquantifiable turn-on. I can’t keep my hand off my dick. I have to stroke my pulsing erection, and as soon as I touch myself, Tom shoots a glare at me with a frustrated groan.
“Dude,” he snaps.
I glare back. “You told me to get naked.”
“Not to touch yourself.”
“Sorry. I suck at following directions. Probably because I like giving them.” I eye him, up-down. “Take your fucking clothes off or I’ll rip them off you.”
Tom doesn’t move a muscle, except for the smile edging across his mouth.
Looks like he made his choice. Two steps closer and I crash into his lips, kissing him fervently while I clutch his face. Then I yank down his jeans. I draw his muscle shirt over his head between breaths. I can’t strip him fast enough as need wraps around me in a vise.
Once all his clothes are on the floor, I kiss him into the shower.
His hands fly to my face, to the back of my head, as I deepen the body-wrenching kiss.
He holds me so close. God. Tom is eager and forceful and something I’ve never felt before.
Something fun. It’s like making out with joy.
I feel his grin beneath my lips more than once.
I shove his shoulders into the black-tiled wall, and he grips my neck with a laugh as he says, “Is that your best move?”
“No, I give you my worst moves,” I say with heat, eyeing his arrogant fucking smirk. “Keep smiling now. You better get it all out before I shove my cock in your fucking mouth.”
His breath catches, but he tilts his chin up. “All you do is threaten, dude.”
“You think I’m all talk?” I bear my hips into him, our cocks grinding together.
“Fuck,” he chokes out, staring down at how our bodies weld.
I’m so lit up. I cup the edges of his jaw with both hands. I make sure he’s looking me in the eyes before I say, “I’m going to fuck your face now. Okay?” He needs to know this isn’t an empty threat.
Tom mutters a masculine, groaning, “Holy…fuck, dude.”
I smile a little, but it vanishes under the sheer craving for him. “Holy fuck, what?”
“Don’t say it like that.”
I growl against his mouth, “Like I’m going to choke you with my cock? Like you’re going to love every second of it? Does that work with the yellow light?”
He nods and laces his fingers on his head like I’m starving him of oxygen. His abs flex, and I run my palm down his lean muscles. I rub him and me together while I wait to figure out if I should push him to his knees or if it might be too much for him.
His arms drop to my shoulders. “Phoenix.” I watch his eyes tighten shut, his lips remain parted with sharp noises. “Phoenix, Phoenix.” I love the raw vulnerability in his voice. He says my name like he needs me, like he’s pleading with me not to go anywhere.
“Fuck,” I grunt out, my muscles straining in hot, flexed bands.
He grits his teeth, and he reaches over to turn on the shower. I smack his hand away.
“I want to fucking hear you,” I whisper.
He groans between his shut lips, especially as I let go of our cocks. I want him in my mouth too fucking badly. Squatting down, I take his perfect length between my lips and to the back of my throat. He braces his shoulders to the wall, saying my name like a wounded plea. “Phoenix.”
Jesus, fuck.
The second Tom looks down at me, he jerks forward. I taste him on my tongue as the hottest noise breaches his clenched teeth. He digs his skull into the black-tiled wall, cursing while he comes.
His fingers are fisting my hair. I have two handfuls of his ass, and I can gladly keep going. But getting him off fast is like a hit of dopamine.
I swallow. Obsessed with the taste of him. I don’t let him catch his breath for long. Right when I stand back up, I put my hand on his head and shove him down.
He seems okay with the force, but I push his hair out of his face and ask, “You good?”
Tom is blinking hard a few times like maybe he saw stars. His “yeah” is too much of a whisper.
“You need a minute?” Yeah, I’m going to give him a minute.
Even if he’s shaking his head. His grip tightens on the back of my thigh, and I don’t rush him while he’s capturing more air in his lungs.
A strangely quiet moment passes where the only sound is our slowing breaths.
He’s knelt at my feet on the shower tile.
I brush my thumb over his cheekbone, and he looks up at me from beneath his lashes with a vulnerability I want to cradle and protect.
Because I’ve never seen Tom look at another person like he’s looking at me.
It’s as if he’s shed every single layer of defense. He’s completely bare.
Something tender and intimate pierces the air around us. “Cobalts don’t kneel, huh?” I whisper.
Tom begins to smile. “I was speaking metaphors.”
I nod. “Well, you literally look good down there.”
“Yeah, I know.” His grin emerges, and I clench my jaw as my lips do a weird twitchy thing.
After I run my fingers through his hair a couple times, I ask, “You ready?”
“I’ve been ready, dude. Waiting on you.”
We can blame the rest break on me. I couldn’t fucking care less. His knees are spread open, and that visual alone is killing me. Then he runs his tongue over the swollen head of my cock and down my length. A shockwave ripples up my legs. Fuck. Dots dance in my vision.
“Tom,” I moan. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Fuck.” A rougher groan escapes the depth of my chest, especially as he squeezes my balls. My muscles tighten, and I narrow my eyes at his curving smile. “Open.” I clasp his jaw with one hand and brace my flexed forearm against the tile wall with the other.
“What happens if I don’t?” he pants.
“Then I come on your face, nepo baby.”
He considers. Jesus Christ.
I grip my rock-hard shaft, and I begin stroking myself while he takes his time thinking. He holds his own thighs, just watching me masturbate right before his eyes. Literally in line with his face. I notice him getting hard again. Yeah, fuck. I need him. I need him. I need him.
“Open,” I beg, my muscles straining with climbing pleasure. “Tom.” My groans sound like I’m dehydrated in the desert and he’s the only source of water I’m thirsting for. “Open your fucking mouth, man.”
His eyes glitter at my tortured command. He’s consuming the length of my flexed body. He’s loving this. Loving how much I need to be inside him in any capacity.
I hold my palm under his lips, and he spits in my hand. Then I rub my shaft two more times. I only take my forearm off the wall to push his hair out of his face.
Tom is so into this moment. It’s driving me fucking feral. I can’t gather enough air in my lungs as I stare into his sparkling blue eyes. Everything feels so heady.
I grab the back of his skull with a strong grip. I’m tugging and stroking harder, faster. And then his lips part for me.
Fuck. Yes.